Those Three Words
by Sherlocked95
Summary: He's been waiting for a good time to say the words for the first time (or: the first time Arthur tells Merlin he loves him). Follow up to Hot Chocolate and Marshmallows and Happy Holidays because I can't resist writing more fluff between these two.


It's been a long day. An absolute clusterfuck of late reports, faulty spreadsheets, broken computers and useless, belligerent IT tech support, and to top it all off, an international conference call to their partners in Dubai that ran over by close to two hours thanks to a shoddy translator.

Arthur is one of the last to leave the office. It's spring and the sky is rapidly darkening. The heavy clouds threaten rain and he's glad he thought to drive into work this morning (admittedly so he could spend an extra half hour in bed with Merlin that he wouldn't have got if he rode in on his bicycle). He climbs into his Prius and buckles himself in, but doesn't immediately start the engine, instead taking a moment to relax and shake off how dreadful the day has been.

Thankfully, it's the weekend. The thought makes him smile; he and Merlin have plans for a weekend away, which he's been looking forward to for quite a while now. It'll be a good way to get rid of the work stress and any time spent with Merlin is time spent perfectly. He's a little bit smitten with the other man.

He drags his hands down his face, exhausted. He's about ready for bed. But he glances at the set of keys in his hands; specifically, the new addition, slotted on the ring between his house keys and the key to his bike lock. Merlin had, with a slightly shy but adoring smile, given him the spare key to his flat only a couple of weeks previously.

He runs his thumb over the key, smiling. He's tired but he wants nothing more than to spend the evening with Merlin. He's got that cold ache from a long, hard day working, the kind that can only be eased by the company of someone special. Someone who can melt away his stress with just one blinding smile or touch.

So instead of turning left at the junction for Collins Street and Hamlinton Way, he flicks the indicator on to turn right, towards Merlin's flat. It's a small building, a tiny corner shop with a flat above it that the owners of the shop rented out once they could afford their own house to start a family. Merlin's made it home.

He lets himself into the flat using the key, closing it behind him and calling a soft, "Merlin?" as he hangs up his coat and toes off his shoes. It feels good to relax and unwind, shedding the work layers as he heads into the tiny, cramped (mostly because of the assorted odds and ends Merlin has squeezed into the space, like the three foot dalek he made for an art project and the antique mahogany shelving unit) living room.

Merlin's dragged the overstuffed armchair over to the window; he likes to be close enough to listen to the rain against the glass. He's curled on the chair, wrapped up in a soft cable knit jumper, a heavy looking book in his hands. He's completely absorbed in what he's reading, enough so that he didn't hear Arthur's greeting.

Arthur smiles and drops to his knees beside the chair, hooking his chin on Merlin's shoulder. The other man jumps, startled, before looking at him with a soft smile.

"Hey, you," he greets. "I didn't think I'd see you until tomorrow."

Arthur shrugs. "I had a long day."

Merlin scrunches his nose slightly in sympathy. "What happened?"

"IT tech support are dicks."

Merlin laughs at that, blue eyes gentle with humour. "Are you sure you weren't just a touch rude to them to begin with?"

Arthur narrows his eyes at the implication. "_Mer_lin."

"_Ar_thur," Merlin mocks back fondly.

Arthur huffs but nudges Merlin until he shifts forward, enough that there's a small slither of space behind him. It's a small armchair but he manages to squeeze in behind his boyfriend and they curl up together, Arthur wrapping himself around Merlin with his chin on his shoulder. Merlin continues reading and Arthur follows the stark lines on the page even though he can't understand a single word.

He knows enough in a few languages to get him by at work; like mandarin and German. But he only learnt what he needed to, the bare minimal, and that was because it was a necessity. He didn't particularly enjoy languages. But Merlin learnt Irish because he adored the language. He loved reading books in the language, had a look of pure joy on his face when he spoke to customers in Gaius' bookshop about it, and especially got excited when conversing with the old man in Irish. It was beautiful to watch and even nicer to listen to. Merlin has a smooth voice that sounds perfect in that particular dialect.

Merlin suddenly starts speaking, picking up halfway through a sentence he's reading so it doesn't make sense, but he's translating it into English as he reads so Arthur understands what's being read to him. They do this often; Arthur curling around Merlin as he reads to him from one of the many books he loves to read. It never fails to amaze Arthur that Merlin can read aloud in English when what's written is in a different language, with what appears to be relative ease. It's rather brilliant, actually.

Arthur closes his eyes as Merlin's voice brings to life what he's reading, putting real character into the words. He slowly relaxes, the stress of the day sliding away from him like water down glass. He breathes in Merlin's scent and plays with the hem of his ridiculous jumper.

Eventually, Merlin turns down the corner of the page he's on to mark it and closes the book, placing it on the windowsill. He watches the rain for a few minutes before Arthur unwraps himself from around Merlin and gets to his feet, walking across the room to the shelving unit. He fiddles with Merlin's old, olive green Roberts radio for a moment until he gets it working and music starts playing.

He holds his hand out to Merlin until the other man laughs brightly and accepts it, letting Arthur tug him to his feet and into his arms. Arthur slides his arms around him and Merlin returns the gesture as they sway on the spot in a slow dance. Arthur buries his face against Merlin's shoulder, pressing his mouth against the soft wool of his jumper.

"I love you," he says quietly.

It's the first time he's said it out loud. He's known it for a while, though. He'd been taken with Merlin the first time he saw him and his adoration for the man has only grown over the time they've been together. Loving Merlin feels right, natural. He's been waiting for a good time to say the words for the first time, to vocalise just how much he cares for Merlin, and maybe right now, swaying to some tune on the old radio isn't a perfect moment, but it feels good.

Merlin pulls his head back to smile fondly at him. "Quite right. So you should."

Arthur huffs at the wicked gleam in Merlin's eyes. "_Mer_lin."

"_Ar_thur," Merlin mocks again without missing a heartbeat. "I love you too, you know. You big idiot."

Arthur pretends to scowl and Merlin laughs, leaning in to bump their noses together before pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth.

* * *

**I was thinking of the old Roberts radio I had when I was younger that rarely worked. I'm not sure what happened to it but I loved it. And then this idea came out of it so I quickly wrote it up, because I never can resist writing fluffy Merthur, especially with the pair in this universe, and since I'm likely to write more ficlets like these, I've decided to put them in a series.**

**Hopefully one day I might replace that radio.**

**I have a tumblr: dontbeobviousmoriarty**

**I'm currently accepting Merlin and Teen Wolf prompts, so feel free to leave a prompt in my askbox (could be for this particular collection or not) or just come and say hello :)**


End file.
